Page 16 of Snowed In

Jeffrey smiles. “Don’t worry, Edries. We’ve got it covered.”

“I’m sorry. I should have checked before we left.”

He shakes his head. “You’ve had a busy couple months. It’s okay. Go before you can’t get to your destination. This storm is nearly on top of us.”

After handing them both gifts—actual gifts and not just money (though there are checks in the packages, too)—I grab my bag and head into the storm. It’s cold. I’m not dressed for the cold. I’m dressed for a luxury plane.

The walk across the tarmac is treacherous with the wind. I feel frostbitten by the time I’m led inside. As ridiculous as it sounds, I stop at the first airport store and purchase stupidly overpriced winter weather gear for the trip.

Clearly I didn’t plan this well. I was too focused on the warm,intimate cabin where it would be warm from a warm fire. I did mention warm, right?

The shuttle is waiting for me, and the ride is more terrifying than the plane landing. I’m reduced to praying to a god I don’t believe in that we arrive safely. And then I’m praying again when the reception tells me that the lodge is completely booked and they’re not sure it’s safe enough to drive me to the cabin I rented.

“I have a thousand bucks if someone will take me,” I say. I’m not fucking sleeping in the waiting room for days! It’s not like they’ll bring me back to town in this storm so I can get a different room, either.

“I’ll take you,” someone says. Thankfully, he’s wearing a uniform. “Ready, sir?”

Flashing a grin at the receptionist, I drag my bag to him and bundle up in my new outdoor gear. It’s still fucking cold as we move through the storm, completely unprotected on the back of the snowmobile. By the time we stop outside the cabin, I’m a shaking mess, but still hand him his well-earned $1,000.

Taking a deep breath as I stand on the porch and watch him disappear into the raging, but beautiful storm, I turn and let myself in the cabin. It’s so warm.

I stand inside the closed door and let the heat from the fireplace melt the snow from me. Shutting my eyes, I inhale the scent of fire smoke, pine, and cinnamon. Classic holiday scents. I wonder if they put something into the fire to make the entire place smell like that.

Eventually, I peel out of my winter clothes and leave the boots by the door and hang my new parka on the hook. The entry leads into an intimate living room, where the fireplace dominates the space, commanding your attention. On either side of the crackling fire are deep set cubbies, piled high with firewood. To the right is a Christmas tree, fully decorated and lit beautifully, with piles of presents underneath. It sits in the corner beside an enormous picture window overlooking the slopes of the mountain.

Not that I can see a thing but blackness outside right now. I bet ina few days when it’s passed, I’ll be able to see the stars clearly and the lights of the ski runs on the slope.

There’s a large round chair, made for two, and a deep-set couch perfect for cuddling. The back wall has smaller windows that flank a television, and there are packages there that I’m unsure of. Several wrapped in brown paper and twine.

There are worse places I could be for Christmas. And there’s very little that could make this scene better.

A note of something savory drifts through the air and I turn toward the only opening that must lead to the kitchen. There’s a light on. As I’m looking down the hall, I see a shadow move. I’m… not alone.

“Hello?” I call.

Something clatters. Silence. And then a man comes around the corner. We stare at each other for a minute. I’m not sure which of us is more shocked.

“Who are you?” he asks. “How did you get into my cabin?”

And…. This is going to be a fucking mess.

Chapter Three

Gabe

I’d thought I’d heard something, but when I stopped to listen, everything was silent. The only sounds were those of dinner cooking and the fires burning.

To say my heart jumped into my throat at a voice in the other room is like someone saying it’s snowing right now. No shit, fuckhead. I don’t know who he is, though he’s somehow vaguely familiar after I’ve looked at him for a minute. He looks just as shocked to see me as I am to see him.

“Who are you?” I ask. “How did you get into my cabin?”

The man deflates. He looks like he aged ten years in front of me. His shoulders fall and I almost feel bad.

Or I might feel bad except there’s a fucking stranger in the cabin I rented! He could have murdery weapons in his suitcase and a dastardly intent!

I may have watched one too many scary movies on the way here.

“Edries,” he says. Even his voice sounds tired. “Somehow, I think we both rented this cabin.”

---